Ghost ship
by Frontline
Summary: When Galactica finds a derelict freighter drifting in deep space, rumours start flying around about the "ghost ship". My second Halloween story.


Galactica; CIC

Colonel Tigh turned slowly to survey the Combat Information Center from his position by the Command and Control station. A balding man with a stern expression, he noted with satisfaction that the rookies stiffened in their seats as his gaze came their way.

 _If the crew aren't intimidated by the XO, then he's not doing his job..._

If the heart of a BattleStar was it's hanger decks that housed it's Viper Mk II Fighters that had proved one of their greatest assets in the war against the Cylons, then the CIC was the brain. It was here that tactical information was assembled and analysed, battle plans developed and orders issued. Without the CIC, there was no way that a vessel as large as the Galactica could function effectively. Apart from him, there were only two other Officers in the CIC. Lieutenant Gaeta stood at attention by the Tactical Station while Captain Kelly oversaw the Communications station in his role as the Landing Signal Officer.

 _We may not have seen the Cylons in two years, but that's no reason to get complacent..._

'Attention on deck.' Mr Gaeta said, the crew coming to attention as Commander Adama entered the CIC...

'As you were.' Commander Adama said with an indulgent smile, casting his gaze around the CIC as he headed toward the tactical board where Colonel Tigh was waiting. A heavy-set man with dark hair, he was the opposite of Tigh in many ways. Mostly, their differences complemented each other and made them him an excellent XO. Most of the time...

'Give me the rundown, Saul.' Adama said, flipping open the folder that Tigh handed him and leafing through it.

'We've just completed our FTL jump to Sector MM-776 and the CAP's been deployed, but there's no traffic this far out. Why Fleet Command had us drag our asses out here is beyond me.'

'There's been a lot of black market activity lately in the frontier sectors since the end of the war. The job goes on, Saul.' He said, taking care not to wrinkle his nose at the smell of alcohol on his old friend's breath. 'What's on our schedule today?'

'Nothing heavy. Chief Tyrol wants permission to service the airlocks while we're out here and the port side CO scrubbers need an overhaul. Oh, and Representative Roslin has asked for a meeting with you when we return to Caprica. It was included in the dispatches we received before departure.'

'...thank you, Colonel.' Adama said, keeping his face carefully blank.

'How's Lee?' Saul asked, after a moment's hesitation and Adama avoided his gaze.

'He's...pretty pissed at me.' He said. 'I don't know, Saul. I'd thought he'd start to come around by now...'

'It's only been a few weeks, Bill. You and Carolanne might be separated, but she's still his Mother. You've gotta give him time...'

'DRADIS contact!' Mr Gaeta reported. 'Unknown vessel bearing 248 carom 45.'

'Set Condition One.' Tigh ordered. 'Captain Kelly, launch the Alert Vipers.'

'Receiving Colonial ID, sir.' Gaeta said.

'Confirm that.' Tigh snapped as Captain Kelly reported

'Alert Vipers away, sir.' He said, just before Gaeta added 'ID confirmed, sir. Vessel is Colonial Deep Space Freighter 7742.'

'What's a freighter doing this far out?' Tighasked and Adama shrugged, turning to the Communications station where a dark-skinned woman with her hair pulled back into a tight bun was listening intently to her headset.

'Any radio chatter, Dee?' Adama asked and she shook her head.

'Negative, sir. All I'm getting is an automated distress call.'

'Keep trying to raise them, Dee. And patch me through to Apollo.'

'Yes, sir.' Dee said, flipping switches on her console and Adama picked up his handset, forcing himself to take a deep breath.

'Apollo, Galactica Actual.' He said, steeling himself not flinch at the cold edge in his son's voice.

'Go ahead, Actual...'

'Captain, I need you to make a visual inspection of CDS-7742 and report her condition.'

'Copy that, Actual. Apollo, out...'

Galactica:

Combat Aerospace Patrol

Captain Lee Adama switched back to the squadron frequency, keeping his voice level with an effort.

'Alright, people. We need to make a fly-by of CDS-7742. Starbuck, you're on my wing. Kat, you have the CAP.'

Starbuck's Viper formed up on his wing and he lead her towards the freighter, sweeping down underneath it. It was a boxy, ugly vessel, the hull pitted with dents and scrapes from a lifetime of service. Apart from the running lights, there was no sign of life on the freighter and he activated his radio again.

'Galactica, Apollo. Fly-by on CDS-7742 is inconclusive. There's no obvious signs of damage and radiological sensors are negative.'

'Understood, Apollo.' Captain Kelly responded. 'Post two pilots to shadow CDS-7742 and return the CAP to Galactica.'

'Acknowledged, Galactica. Flattop, Renegade, maintain position here. Everyone else, form up on me...'

Battlestar Galactica; CIC

'Thank you, Captain Kelly.' Adama said, turned to Tigh. 'Tell Chief Tyrol to assemble a Damage Control team. I want to know what happened over there...'

Colonial Raptor 652

Chief Tyrol sat calmly in the crew compartment of the Raptor, resisting the urge to look out of the forward viewport as Helo guided them on their approach to CDS-7742. Instead, he discreetly observed Cally and Prosna from the corner of his eyes. They were two of his best technicians, but...

'You not gonna lose your lunch again, are you, Cally?' Prosna asked, with a grin and Cally scowled.

'Frak you, Prosner...'

'Alright, settle down, both of you.' Tyrol said, his gaze flicking from one to another. 'We've got a job to do...'

CDS-7742

'Helo, DC-1.' Chief Tyrol said, his voice echoing faintly inside the helmet of his spacesuit.

 _'Go ahead, Chief.'_

'We've reached the Engine Room, sir.'

 _'Copy that, Chief. How long until you can restore power and life support?'_

'Depends on what we find, sir. I'll keep you posted. DC-1 out.'

'This is pretty creepy, huh?' Prosena said as their boots echoed on the deck. 'A real ghost ship...'

'There's...no such thing as ghosts.' Cally said and Prosna grinned.

'Oh, yeah? When I first started in the Fleet, I heard about this space station where life support failed and the whole crew slowly froze to death or died of asphyxiation. A year later, we took it over and used it as a staging post. It was my first posting out of basic. Things were quiet for a while and then it started happening. Techs working on the lowers levels began hearing voices or footsteps when no-one was around. Then, they started seeing them. People with dead eyes sitting against the wall or walking down the corridors...'

'You're frakking full of it, Prosna. ' Cally said and Prosna's grin widened.

'Don't tell me you're scared...'

'I'm not scared...'

'Knock it off!' Tyrol snapped. 'We've got work to do. Cally, find the emergency generator and fire it up. Prosna, check the main relays...'

'Prosna?' Cally asked, swinging round as she heard footsteps behind her, her flashlight illuminating the pitted walls of the cargo bay. 'Prosna, is that you?'

The footsteps came again and she whirled round again, seeing no-one there.

'Prosna, this isn't funny...' She shouted and her radio crackled.

 _'Cally? Everything all right over there?'_

'Yeah, Chief. I thought I heard footsteps, but it's just Prosna frakking around, trying to scare me...'

 _'I doubt it.' Chief said. 'He's still checking on the power relays. How's it coming with that generator?'_

 _'...nearly there, Chief.' Cally said, taking a deep breath as she picked up her spanner again._

 _Come on, Cally. Get a grip..._

Galactica; CAP

'What do you think happened on our ghost ship?' Starbuck asked and Lee rolled his eyes.

'Come on, Starbuck. Don't tell me you actually believe in ghosts?'

'Yeah, I do, Lee. While I was serving on the Triton, we lost a Raptor when an FTL jump went wrong. It was found two days later adrift in deep space, with the pilot still inside. He'd taken some shrapnel in his leg that nicked his femoral artery. According to the Medics, he'd bled to death right there in the cockpit after shrapnel nicked his femoral artery. Anyway, the Raptor was repaired and put back into service, but that wasn't the end. A buddy of mine was in the Hanger when he saw someone sitting in the cockpit dressed in a flight suit with his hand pressed against his leg. When he looked again, he was gone.'

'Sounds like someone had been hitting the stims.' Lee said, shaking his head. 'Anyway, we're still on patrol here...'

CDS-7742

'What've we got, Chief?' Helo asked as Tyrol emerged from beneath the console and came to his feet.

'We've reactivated the generator, sir, and emergency power's been restored. We should have full life support within the hour.'

'Thank you, Chief.' Helo said, activating the radio in his helmet. 'Boomer, contact Galactica and report our situation...'

Galactica; CIC

 _'...life support and primary power should be back up within an hour, sir._

'Thank you, Boomer.' Adama said. 'Instruct Chief Tyrol to start a search of the ship as soon as possible. I want to know what happened over there.'

'Yes, sir.' Boomer said and Adama replaced the receiver, turning to Tigh.

'What's your opinion, Saul?'

'They probably abandoned ship. Or maybe there was a mutiny. You know how undisciplined these civvy crews can be. Either way, rumours about this 'ghost ship' are starting to spread among the crew. Personally, I think it's a frakkin' load of crap...'

'Don't be so sure.' Adama said. 'When I was serving on the Atlantica, there was a compartment where a gang of mutineers were rumoured to have been executed. The Mutiny went down the next day, but was prevented by a group of Marines, deck hands and pilots. The Mutineers were court martialled and executed by firing squad. Afterwards, people claimed to hear whispering coming from the bulkheads where they had been plotting.'

'Hnnf.' Tigh snorted with a shake of his head. 'Haunted cabins and ghostly mutineers? Come on, Bill. You don't believe that garbage, do you?'

'Maybe I do, Saul...'

Galactica; CAP

'Apollo, Kat. Ready for the hand-off.'

'Acknowledged, Kat. You have the CAP. Starbuck, form up on me.'

Kat watched Starbuck and Apollo peel off and head back to Galactica, settling back into her flightseat with a sigh.

 _I hate long patrols..._

A serious woman with black hair and a strong jawed countenance, she had a fierce look in her eye to go with her cool, slightly mocking smile.

'...Hey, Kat?'

'Yeah, Hotdog?' She said, with a sigh.

'Listen...some of the guys in the rec room were swapping ghost stories and Crashdown said that you'd seen one. Is that true?'

'...Yeah, Hotdog, it's true.'

'What happened?'

'...when I was at flight school, we had to fly training runs through a nearby asteroid field that we called The Graveyard. It must have been my tenth run that day. I was flying with my wingman, a real pain in the ass called 'Nosedive.' Anyway, we were the only two pilots in there. We were just finishing up our run when I saw a Mark I Viper flitting amongst the asteroids. It disappeared behind Crater City, one of the biggest rocks in there and didn't come out again. I radioed the flight instructor and there were no other Vipers scheduled for manuevers. When I got back, I found out that a Mark I had crashed on Crater City during a training exercise about fifteen years ago and that it could still be seen flying through the asteroid field.'

'Cool...'

CDS-7742

 _'Helo to DC-1. Chief, do you read?'_

'DC-1. Go ahead, sir.'

 _'We've just about finished our sweep, Chief, and we're heading for the bridge. Anything on your end?'_

'Negative, sir. Nothing but empty decks and deserted...'

'Uh, Chief,' Prosna said, 'you might want to take a look at this.'

'Stand by, sir.' Tyrol said, turning to Prosna 'What've we got?'

'Looks like an emergency bulkhead, Chief. And it's been sealed shut...'

'Okay.' Tyrol said, activating his radio again. 'Sir, we've found a sealed emergency bulkhead here...'

 _'The vessel was losing atmosphere, Chief...'_

'Yes, sir. And every other door so far has been open, except this one. Sir...'

 _'Understood, Chief. In your opinion, is it safe?'_

'It should be, sir. These doors were designed to seal automatically if exposed to vacuum, but we're going to suit up just in case.'

 _'Copy that, Chief.'_

'Alright. Everybody seal your helmets and pressurise.' Tyrol ordered, snapping his own helmet into place and grasping the release mechanism. 'All set?'

Cally and Prosna both gave thumbs up, so he turned the wheel, the mechanism releasing with a grinding noise.

'Prosna, give me a hand.' Tyrol said, the younger man reaching in to help haul the door open, revealing the darkened room beyond. Taking a flashlight from Cally, Tyrol shone the beam through the hatch, feeling his throat tighten at what he saw.

Behind him, he heard a retching sound from Cally as she tried not to throw up, but he couldn't take his eyes off the scene in front of him. Inside the compartment, ten bodies lay sprawled against the bulkheads or curled up on the floor, their bloodshot eyes staring at nothing.

'Prosna.' Chief said, softly and together they pushed the door shut again.

'DC-1, Helo.'

 _'Go ahead, Chief.'_

'We found the crew, sir...They're dead.'

 _'Copy that, Chief. I'll inform Galactica. Return to the Raptor.'_

'Yes, sir.' Tyrol said, turning to Cally and Prosna. 'Come on. We're out of here.'

'Chief...' Cally began, her face pale.

'Nothing more we can do, Cally. Let's go.'

'...Yes, Chief.' She said, with a final glance back at the hatchway.

Tyrol stood in the Raptor's hatchway for a moment, looking out at the darkened deck, before shaking his head and moving to strap himself into his seat. The hatch ground shut and the Raptor lifted off and exited through the cargo bay doors. The deck was quiet for a minute after they'd gone and then, with the faint echo of footsteps, a figure appeared. It stood still for a moment as if watching where the Raptor had gone and then turned, footsteps echoing away as it faded from sight...


End file.
